


And he almost got me.

by junender



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Manipulation, Essentially I'm a bit sad this arc ended so here I am continuing it-, Gen, His name is Dream and he is a bitch /rp, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tommy and Dream vs the World, VillainInnit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junender/pseuds/junender
Summary: "...I'm not upset." Dream reassured, and Tommy blinked- once, twice, thrice- surprise and confusion cutting like a sharp blade through his foggy mindedness- What?- He couldn't voice his question. "...A little disappointed, yes- but I'm not upset at you, Tommy; We're friends, right?"Tommy hummed in acknowledgement. Dream laughed, sounding pleased with his response in some way. "Good, good."~AKA~It's a game, Dream succeeds, and he promotes his pawn into a knight.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 367





	1. TNT

**Author's Note:**

> CW:
> 
> Guilt tripping / Manipulation / Implied Panic Attack 
> 
> -
> 
> I do plan to have multiple chapters on this series.

Tommy fucked up. 

He knew it- he _knew_ \- when their amusing atmosphere had brewed into a sinister tempest, he knew when the pure unrestrained rage radiating off of Dream's body burned brighter, scorched hotter, than the fizzling pain of the TNT rattling his brain as his whole world went boom around him. He knew it, and he fucked up. And he fucked up _bad._

"...Tommy, Tommy..." Dream tsk'd quietly, his saddening coolness simultaneously chilling Tommy to the bone and also making him painfully aware of the searing white-hot fire that ran beneath every syllable like electricity. "...You hid things from me?"

Tommy's heart sank deep at Dream's words, his breath taken away by the big pile of inky black guilt twisting and churning in his stomach- swirling and swirling until all he could think about was _why_ he did this and _why_ he screwed this all up and _why_ -

The masked man's firm palm on Tommy's shoulder stirred him to action as if breaking him out of some terrified trance, and he scrambled to place his quick-fire thoughts into some sort of coherent sentence. "I-I'm... I'm sorry- Dream, genuinely- I- I was thinking, er- I don't..." 

"You don't-?" 

"I don't...-" He spluttered and whimpered and sighed, quite pathetically at that, a strangled breath escaping his chapped lips as regret fuzzed up his brain and all he could get out were apologies. "I don't _know_ what I was thinking-- I'm... I'm s-"

Dream's gloved fingers dug into him, shutting him up with a whine and tears and screams that just couldn't manage to wrangle themselves from his frail form. "No. _No_ you're not. You _hid_ things from me, Tommy, you- stored things away that you thought I'd take away. And to what, Tommy? To revolt? To retaliate against me, against your exile? I'm shocked, honestly." 

Tommy stared forwards unseeingly, traces of unspoken 'sorry's on his tongue snuffed out by the dead flames and the chatter of the cold wind on his teeth permeating the grounds. He shook and shivered and swayed, unable to control his balance against the rising panic in his gut and the alarm bells in his mind. _He_ was _sorry_. He tugged at his shirt. _Very, very sorry._ Ripped more fabric from the dirty woollen surface. _Why couldn't Dream understand that?_ Some untamed part of him wanted to yell, to scream at the dastardly world that dealt him unfair cards, to shriek about how this _wasn't_ this fault, how Wilbur and Techno and Dream and whoeverthefuck else stuck him in this situation, that it was their fault he was like this. Their fault he turned out like this. 

But he knew better. He knew now the manners he didn't know before, he knew that Dream had taught him patience, had taught him forgiveness, had taught him friendship. He knew that, above all else, he put himself in this situation ("Tubbo had you exiled for a reason," he faintly registered Dream say under the thick blankets of haze) and that really, Dream didn't _have_ to come visit him daily, didn't _have_ to gift one of his precious tridents as a gift, didn't _have_ to promise him protection at the cost of a set of measly worn iron armour every visit. He didn't have to, and if he didn't have to, he might...

"...Wait. Wait, Wh- Wait, Dream--" Tommy surfaced from his train of thought with a distressing level of awareness, choking on his own words like he was spitting seawater. He pleaded into the smiley dotted eyes of his only friend, "You wouldn't... Y-You're not gonna _leave_ me are you? Please, man- you're the only one who's come to visit me, if... if you left, I- I- I don't think I could..." 

His breath quickened the longer Dream stood without a reply, expression indiscernible beneath the cracked porcelain he wore like it were as a part of him as his flesh and blood. It drove Tommy nuts, not being able to read the look on his face at all, and it only served to make him more panicked, breathing becoming shallower, shallower and shallower still, until the real world ahead of him was nothing but a pipe dream amongst swimming thoughts and fuzzy feelings, and he couldn't tell if he was upset or really, really, really angry. 

The ground rushed up to meet him as his knees gave out underneath him suddenly, but instead of meeting his unfortunate demise by the crater of the place he used to call Logstedshire, he was whisked away into the soft world of a green cloak shielding him from the elements, tightly clinging onto the body that lowered him gently to the ground, wrapped in a rather comforting embrace. 

"...I'm not upset." Dream reassured, and Tommy blinked- once, twice, thrice- surprise and confusion cutting like a sharp blade through his foggy mindedness- What?- He couldn't voice his question. "...A little disappointed, yes- but I'm not _upset_ at you, Tommy; We're friends, right?" 

Tommy hummed in acknowledgement. Dream laughed, sounding pleased with his response in some way. "Good, good." 

A few seconds in silence passed in the still-steaming wreckage of his 'home'. 

"Tommy?"

"...Yeah?" 

"Nothing. You just seem to really like my coat, aha. Do you want one?"

Tommy flinched away from the hug, and Dream chuckled once more, getting to his feet and offering Tommy a hand whilst dusting off his knees. 

He took it.

"Yeah. I guess." 


	2. Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:
> 
> Themes of: Guilt Tripping, Manipulation, Very Vaguely Implied Suicidal Thoughts  
> Essentially just things associated with this arc in general.
> 
> -
> 
> HELLO everyone who has already read this chapter! No, it wasn't an error- yes, I did delete the previous version of the chapter. I wasn't happy with it (mainly because it actually just. Switched POVs halfway through, but also because I wrote it at about 2am and I was very, very tired) and because of some of the changes I made to this chapter (there aren't many, but in context it could mean a lot in the future) I wanted to re-notify those who had already read it by just. Reposting the chapter.
> 
> I'm much happier with this version, and any minor edits I make in the future will just be edited on, not reposted. Chapter 3 will be coming soon! Thank you all for the Kudos and supportive comments thus far, it really helps motivate me to work on this project! 
> 
> Also! Thank you to @pokettomonusuta on Tumblr and Kenji Arts on YouTube for their Protégé!AU and Underling!AU respectively! I wouldn't say this fic is explicitly part of either, and is more so my own exploration of the concept, but I figure it'd be wrong not to credit either for inspiration at all.

The rain laid thick against the blond at the shoreline, storming down in sheets like a thunder-beast that clawed at his hair, that whipped against blue fingers turned numb by the chill, that scraped against his clothing (or the muddied rags that remained). By now, even the sun had fled from the tempest, bleeding out into the horizon to await a new day with clearer skies, and there was no doubt that everyone else, too, would have followed a similar path to avoid the worst of the cold conditions. 

But not Tommy. 

He stayed until he could hear the mindless skeletons that bumbled around klutzily in the pits of the wreckage grew restless until they began to draw arms at one another. He stared until the waters' moon-kissed glow burned itself into his mind and itched at his eyes. 

He missed too, unable to tear the ever-painful ringing ache in his heart from his chest. He missed Dream, who had long-since disappeared along the seabed in a trident-induced flurry. He missed L'Manburg, his old home, and the nation he fought to found, fought to keep, fought to stay in, and kept fighting for. But what he missed the most, he realized, the bleeding wound that he figured would never properly heal, was... Tubbo. 

The compass weighed like a heavy boulder in his grip as he pressed his fingernails into each crook and cranny of the chipped glass until even the keen needle inside's confidence started to waver. Wiped the glimmering sides with cold, careful hands until the inscription emblazoned on them became visible once more. _Your Tubbo._

Tommy recalled with a smile when Wilbur- 'Ghostbur,', he reprimanded silently and flicked himself on the wrist for his mistake, 'not the same person,'- had first delivered the compass into his possession, and he remembered his heart swelling with hope and his chest bursting with happiness when he had found out that Tubbo had recieved a similar one of his own.   
His look faultered. That happiness didn't last for long. 

His relationship with Tubbo was very, very complicated. He doubted that even the two themselves could ever begin to describe it in it's entirety. 

On one hand, Tommy saw the boy who wore compassion on his sleeve, who wielded his sword of kindness and his shield of sincerity, the boy who liked bees, who spent sunsets on end listening to chipped vinyls on repeat in an old jukebox, hard-won music discs- ones that he cared for not because of their worth, but because of what they meant to his friends- at a bench on a cliffside as he joked the nights away. He saw the boy, friend of the world, his ally- he saw Tubbo, he saw his other half.   
On the other, he saw the man who had been forced to grow up too quickly, who had been bruised and beaten by the ones he loved and trusted, who had become cold to dead promises, who was burned and scarred by colour- so much colour- and who both appointed him and exiled him, the one who chose his country time and time and time again still. He saw the man, the soldier, his enemy- he saw Tubbo, he saw L'Manburg's President.

At some point Tommy had begun to pace along the shoreline made mush with rain, clumsily stumbling back and forth, the compass swaying at his side as he deliberated. Many times he had been as he was now, a sunken boy with a sullied face, too-far gone in his own mind to care about the rain lashing at his skin as he debated throwing _Your Tubbo_ to the wind, to the wolves, to the lava. Dream, if he were here, would probably give some stupidly sage advice- to sleep on it, calm down, and wait, to sit and think about this _logically._

But Tommy was not logical. He was a wild child, impulsive and misunderstood, who followed each and every whim of his like an untamed animal. And, like an animal, he had stopped caring about controlling himself long ago. Stopped caring when he was betrayed one too many times, stabbed in the back by Eret, by Wilbur, by Technoblade, by Tubbo, and if he had any say in it, he wouldn't let the _bastardly hunk of useless metal_ allow someone to betray him for a fifth time- so with a primal war cry, he raised the compass up behind him and prepared to throw- 

"...Tommy? Tommy, what are you doing-?"

The blond bit back his bubbling rage, and without the passion behind his stance and his throw he collapsed onto his knees into a pit of unrelenting fear. Breath caught in his throat, he clutched the precious, precious, (how could it have ever been anything but precious?) compass to his chest, choking on the damp air. 

Behind him, he could hear a familiar voice shifting on the sands, and the crinkling of clothes as a tall silhouette crouched besides him and placed a black gloved hand on one of his shoulders- though quickly removed it when Tommy tensed. 

"Uhh... Buddy?" The figure started cautiously, shifting something to cover Tommy's head as well as their own- which he was quick to realise was a shield, no doubt a makeshift umbrella as protection from the rain. "Are you, er- I mean. You're obviously not okay, but..." 

The blond let out a shaky exhale and tried to calm his shivering body, letting the compass' cord hang like a pendant around his neck while he tried to console the cold biting at his body by wrapping his arms around himself in a sad hug. Steeling his expression, he glanced back over with the impression of an even look.

Beside him was the towering monochrome man of two skins, the concern for his friend written out like an open book over his face and his ruby and jade-coloured eyes, so insanely obvious despite the black 'n' white mask obscuring his nose and mouth. 

"...Right-... oh!" Ranboo blinked, and soon a smile was audible in his voice as he dug deep into his satchel to produce a wrapped goodie from his inventory, its golden pastry crusts looking even better under the gentle shimmer of the clingfilm under the moon. "Look! Uh, Puffy and I made some Pumpkin Pie for you! Couldn't find the Christmas Pudding recipe, so-... Happy Halloween...?"

Tommy glanced back and forth between the pie and Ranboo, blinking slowly at it but accepting the gift anyway to appease the halfbreed. He took in a breath to speak, voice hoarse.

"...I don't need your pity pie." He frowned. There was no bite in his tone, as if the fire inside of him had been reduced to a gentle ember over his exile. 

"Well... _no,_ it's not out of pity." Ranboo's voice was gentle, but the surprise was not lost on him. "We're friends! And, uh- I kinda owe you one, so I thought this was the least I could do, right?" 

That one earned the softest chuckle. "You didn't even make it- had a _woman_ help and shit." 

"Yes, _'help'_! I did most of it, you know- went and got all the eggs. Very difficult." The other emphasised, sounding exasperated by so, so relieved. It almost cheered Tommy up, in a way; as of late, he had become very afraid of his friends up and leaving- so he adjusted, and sometimes that was becoming more passive, like with Dream. But with Ranboo, it was more like he could be his old self, something which he appreciated more than he could put into words. If only a tad exhausting.

" _Sure,_ big man." Scoffed Tommy. " _Sure._ I'd bet."

"Yes!"

The conversation quickly went stale after that. Sure, small talk still permeated the air, as it was whenever Mr. TommyInnit didn't know how to shut up ('Oi, Ranboo, what's the worst word you know?' 'Stop asking me that! I'm not saying it!'), it was nothing more than quick-fire sentences and responses that didn't go very far at all. At the very least, Ranboo looked more relaxed, and the pouring rain had finally let up, and by the time something more interesting had happened Tommy was too busy making wooden tools and chopping down trees for new projects.

"...So." Ranboo cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing back from his resting spot against birch tree bark to survey the war-torn lands of Logstedshire. "Did you, uh, do all of... that? You know." 

"No." Tommy frowned, his response quick as he hacked his axe into another oak log. He wiped the sweat from his forehead to follow Ranboo's gaze and wince at the sight of his blown-up lands. Poor Tnret. "...Dream did."

Ranboo gulped, doing a dramatic double-take which made the blond grin wistfully. _"...Dream?"_

"...Yeah. _Dream_." Muttered Tommy, "Yeah, but- really, It's okay. He... He found the stash, the one under Logsted that I showed you. I shouldn't have hid stuff from him, I know, and- I really did apologise, but then he..." He gestured around dejectedly. "Hiding stuff from friends is wrong. I get that now, but... I lost your pickaxe too. Sorry."

He continued his wood-chopping escapade when Ranboo stared forwards, very clearly lost in thought. Only when the toppling tree nearly hit him straight on did he come back to reality, and he tried to place his hands on Tommy's shoulders (Tommy shoved him off.). 

"No, no-" Ranboo furrowed his brows. "The pickaxe really doesn't matter, Tommy, don't sweat it. But- Dream is... I mean, he's the one who put you in this situation in the first place. He keeps taking your things, burning your stuff- hell, he just blew up everything you worked towards-! I'm not- gonna tell you what to think, you know, but- if I were in your shoes..."

Tommy stopped listening, gripping the shabbily-made wooden axe in his bruised hands so tightly in his thinking that he could feel the splinters burying themselves under the upmost layer of his skin. He thought, thought and thought about how weirdly reasonable Ranboo sounded. His stance wavered and the fog that blanketed his mind during his exile- the one that protected him from a lot of his thoughts, that also tucked away his old rage, his old fire, and the small voice in the back of his head that screamed and screamed _not_ to trust Dream, that he wasn't his friend, and other strange things. 

_Was it really that strange though?_ He pursed his lips. _Was it really that unheard of?_ _To dislike Dream?_ He felt his expression shift- from confused, to conflicted, and then to confused once more. 

His tone was low, slow and quiet. "...Dream's my... friend. Isn't he? I thought- Yeah, he... he's the only one who came to my beach party. And- he genuinely cares, don't he? Great guy, he is. I don't... wanna upset him. Yeah."

He failed to submerse himself back in the absentminded fog he was in earlier, thoughts firing a mile a minute despite how hard he tried to stop them. Tommy put his mind to chopping down more wood. He'd ask Dream about it later. Or would he? He didn't know. Not right now. With another tree gone, the blond had turned back to Ranboo, who had just been quiet with concern ever since he had last spoken. He fiddled with his hands, trying to put more joy into his voice when he spoke. "You alright there fella?" 

The halfbreed jolted to attention like a sleepy solider. "Yeah! Yeah. I'm here. Just, uh, was thinking. We could probably make a big house over on the plains near the ruined portal- uh. Mansion. No point in trying to fill in all those TNT holes, would just take an uh.. really long time. Maybe like..." Pause. "Yeah- really long. For some reason dirt is really hard to come by sometimes." 

"Maybe, yeah." Tommy agreed, gaze flickering back and forth between Ranboo and the biome in question. "If we use my mine, we could-"

He stopped in his tracks. His heart leapt out of his chest in a confusing myriad of emotions, and fear, anger, sadness and a weird, twisted form of happiness wormed into his head. It was paralyzing, and he saw himself telling Ranboo that he needed to go, that he wasn't meant to be here, that he had to hide- fast- all before the familiar whizz of an enderpearl blew past him and a man in a green cloak rose from the purple residue. 

Tommy inhaled sharply. 

"H-Hey... Dream..."


End file.
